


Kiss Off

by flordesombra



Series: Big Feelings™ [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flordesombra/pseuds/flordesombra
Summary: The Gang is 16 and the boys find out girls think it's hot when boys make out. Dennis immediately wants to put this to the test, but he gets shot down by Mac and Charlie because of his braces. Dennis doesn't deal well with this.
Relationships: Charlie Kelly/Mac McDonald, Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Series: Big Feelings™ [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996105
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Kiss Off

**Author's Note:**

> I put this together in a couple of days, and couldn't wait for a beta to revise it. Apologies for my English, it's not my first language. Please let me know if it's really horrible to read, any volunteers to beta welcome! Also, I mostly write in British English, so do let me know as well if there's anything that sounds too BBC.

Adriano had been the first one saying it, but Adriano could be shitting you at any given moment, waiting for the chance to bare his teeth and sink them into your gullible flesh, so neither Dennis, Mac, or Charlie believe it at first. 

They only start giving a chance to the notion when Dee confirms it, two weeks later at the spot under the bleaches where they gather to have a smoke.

“Oh, yeah definitely,” she says, nodding eagerly. Dee had taken to pastel-colored Sobranie cigarettes, jumping on a wave of neo-60/70s fashion. It could have been a good look for her, going all the way to the Twiggy aesthetic, if it wasn’t for the back brace. She's also going for a languid, too-cool-for-school pose, but just managing to hold the shockingly pink cigarette very awkwardly between her freakishly long fingers. Her make-up and clothes are an uncoordinated mess that's nearly giving Dennis a migraine.

No, he's not being dramatic.

“Dee, you’re talking shit,” Mac says, making the corner of Dennis’s mouth twitch immediately. 

“It's true, girls find it hot when guys kiss” she insists. 

“That’s fucked up,” Charlie said, voice strained as he’s still holding the smoke in his lungs. He has bummed a bright blue cigarette from Dee, fascinated by them because they looked like chalks to him. If anybody was going to try to smoke chalk, that was Charlie. 

“Yeah, Dee, what kind of sick perverts are women turning into?” Mac said, going back to filling a bag with already-rolled blunts somebody's ordered from him. He's become rather deft at it by now, a year after backstabbing his way to the school’s head dealer position. “I’m telling you it’s all that anime crap they watch.”

“Goth culture as well,” Dennis says out loud. They all look at him, interested. He smiles, trying to hide his braces without making it obvious. He loves the feeling of the whole gang holding onto every word he says. “Androgynous demeanor is a big thing in the goth scene these days.”

“What’s antonymous?” Charlie asks. 

“When you look like a sissy,” Mac replies, loud and brass. “So what, girls like to look at two pansies gaying it up? How’s that a turn-on for them, and not watching me doing chin-ups with these bad boys?” he flexes (poorly) while raising the last half-finished blunt to his mouth, licking the paper with a soft wet tongue before rolling it. 

“Nobody wants to see that,” Dee says, taking another drag. 

“I guess I can see why they could find it hot,” Dennis said. Mac quickly takes back the blunt he has just put between his lips, eager to disagree with him, but Dennis holds his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “No, hear me out. All I’m saying is, it is a game of subtleties.” 

“Here we go,” Dee said. “The Golden Gold has an overly complicated explanation for us…”

“Shut up Dee,” they all say. She gives them her middle finger. 

“It can't be just two dudes smashing their mouths together. And it can't be too dirty, or they basically will not believe the guys want to get it on with them. I think you just have to give them a little show, look confident but like it’s not a big deal at the same time, and that should do the trick.”

“Hm.” Mac has taken a couple of drags from the blunt, and he’s letting the smoke waft slowly out of his mouth. He's very cocky about how he’s able to handle his weed, but Dennis has to admit it's one of the few cool things about Mac. The previous year Mac also had a good growth spurt, with his face finally shifting into something that was more young man than awkward girl. He can’t grow stubble yet, which pains him to no end, especially because Charlie has been growing whiskers since he was twelve. 

But at fifteen, Mac could pull the jock look (he wasn’t good at any sports, but he could have bullshitted his way through track and field) if he wasn’t such a loser and an asshole. You could still be an asshole jock and get chicks, but the loser clung to you, weighing you down on the highschool race for status. 

No varsity could change that. 

Still, Dennis could admit it to himself. In the right light, Mac was a pretty boy. Nearly as pretty as himself. 

Chicks would totally wet themselves if they were to have a little smooch in front of them. The nervous energy that always buzzes through him when he comes up with a scheme for the gang is giving him freezing hands and a feverish blush. He opens his mouth to tell them the plan, eyes still on Mac, nearly wanting to give him a sign so he can be in cahoots with Dennis a millisecond before the others. For a moment he thinks Mac understands, because he frowns slightly, and then his eyebrows go up, up...

However, Mac turns his gaze to Charlie, so quickly despite being stoned. 

“What you say, Charlie boy?” Mac says before Dennis can’t say a word. He's looking at Charlie with a charming slanted smirk, eyes twinkling in baked amusement. “We could totally pull this off.”

Dennis scoffs before Charlie can say anything. They are sitting so close, the co-dependent losers. Always joined at the hip. They're getting too old for that routine.

“What, you don’t think we can do it, bro?” Charlie asks, taking the blunt from Mac’s fingers.

Dennis shrugs, feigning nonchalance. 

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just wondering who the fuck would like to see Ronnie the Rat slobbering all over Dirtgrub.”

They are both too stoned to get angry at his words, but the smirk is gone from Mac’s face. 

"Let's just drop it, bro, it sounds like too much hassle,” Mac licks his lips, looking for his bag and the emergency Peppermint Patty he always carries for the munchies. 

“Not at all, I think there’s something there. I’m saying it should be me kissing one of you, that way we give people at least one person they already want to see.”

It's extremely irritating, the way they all eye-roll at him. 

“What? Am I lying?”

“You’re certainly lying to yourself…” Dee quips, the cynical bitch. 

“Yeah bro, no offense--” Mac’s words immediately get his hackles up. “Nobody is saying you’re not higher in the chain than us, but it’s not gonna work because...”

He can't seem to finish his sentence. He seeks Charlie's eyes, a silent plea for support. 

“What, what are you trying to say?” Dennis asks, hating the complicity between them, fucking Batman and Robin finishing each other’s sentences.

“The braces bro,” Charlie says, abruptly. 

“The braces,” Mac agrees, after a beat. “You gotta admit it dude, they are a bit of a turn-off.”

Despite his best efforts to play it cool, Dennis still blushes furiously, shame and self-consciousness making his ears ring. 

“Yeah, man,” Charlie carries on. “You’ve got a great face, great lips, but those things are nerdy.”

Dennis's first impulse is to light up one of his own cigarettes, but he doesn’t want to attract more attention to his mouth, so he just grabs his Teen Vogue and acts like they're not there until the bell rings. 

… 

He's trying to ignore the morning hunger pangs on the following Monday (he's woken up a little puffy) when he's practically assaulted by Mac and Charlie, talking over each other like two maniacs. 

“Dennis it worked!” Mac says. “It’s true, man, you’re not gonna believe it!”

“It was awesome!” Charlie screeches. “I thought it was gonna be gross because Mac had eaten a bologna hoagie, but-”

“-dude shut up about the bologna already, I brushed my teeth and chewed a whole packet of Big Red before we did it.”

“Yeah, it was okay, and they really, oh my god Dennis, the chicks-”

“-Goth girls Dennis, you were right, they were lapping it up, Jesus, and it was just 2 minutes max, but they-”

“-they were horny for it man! Goth girls, man!!”

Dennis could have choked them with his bare hands, the traitorous little bastards. 

“Oh,” he says, instead, carefully tailoring his smile. “That’s cool. Which club?”

“Deathwish,” Mac said. “We just walked in there too, security is crap and they’re not carding anybody. We borrowed a couple of my dad’s black t-shirts, got some eyeliner on, and tried to look really bored.”

“And what, you just started kissing?” Dennis says, a fake smile still plastered on his face. He says it loud enough to make them panic and look around in case anybody hears, but not so loud somebody could actually catch what he's saying. 

“Man shut up! We’ll tell you later under the bleachers.” And with that, Mac just drags Charlie away, to their next class. 

Dennis spends the next four hours stewing in his foul mood, clenching his jaw and feeling his braces cutting the inside of his lips, fueling his anger even more. 

By the time he joins them under the bleachers, he's just exhausted, and the anger leaves space for a more manageable indifference. 

Mac and Charlie are also calmer, although they still grin at each other in a very irritating way. 

“Okay, so the plan worked, congratulations,” Dennis forces himself to say. “Who would have thought, where the chicks a bit” he makes a face that implies the girls were probably mentally retarded. 

“No dude, they were hot!” Charlie exclaims. 

“They were like three years older too, man, it was awesome,” Mac is lying down now, using his jacket as a pillow, hands to his heart like a lovesick idiot. “They were all dressed in these lacy black dresses, and had like Addams family hair…”

“What, Cousin Itt's?”

“Nah dude, like long, black silky hair. It was so sexy.”

If Dennis had something in his stomach, he could have thrown up. 

“How was the kiss then? Did you use any of my advice?”

“You were so right, Den,” Mac says, sitting up. “We just played it cool, had a drink, and when we had made eye contact a couple of times with them, I gave Charlie the sign and we kissed. When we were done they got closer and started talking with us, and a couple of rum and cokes later we were making out with them!”

“So awesome,” Charlie says, in a reverent little voice. 

Dennis has a strange, poisonous feeling inside him. It's like a tide, rising in him.

“Show me,” he says.

They're still smiling stupidly, not quite understanding.

“What, buddy?” Mac asks. 

“Show me how the kiss was because what I’m picturing ain’t pretty.”

“We’re not gonna do it here, dude” Mac’s expression has lost all his goofy softness, he is frowning and looks caged. 

“Yeah, Dennis. We’re not gonna risk being called the F word just for a stupid scheme, we have it bad enough…”

“Nobody’s watching, everybody is in the front parking lot checking out Adriano’s new car.”

They hesitate, but Dennis is right. The field and the bleacher area are deserted. 

“All right, but it was nothing special,” Mac says, turning towards Charlie. “Should we stand up?”

“You only wanna stand up because we’re the same height sitting down,” Charlie says. “But hey, I’m not an insecure man and you clearly are.”

“We're _so_ not the same sitting height” Mac huffs, getting up. 

They're being entirely too casual about this, while Dennis’s heart is hammering between his ribs before anything has even happened. 

Mac and Charlie get closer, Mac towering over Charlie. 

“Ok, so we were leaning on the bar, right?” Mac slicks his hair back, getting into the re-enactment, bending his elbow as if he's supporting himself on an invisible surface, “you are the goth chicks, Dennis. We’ve made eye contact a couple of times, and then I make it look as if I am talking to Charlie about them.”

“You were,” Charlie said. “You were talking about their boobies.”

“Which were awesome, by the way. So anyway, I look at them, I’m talking to Charlie, then I give Charlie the sign.”

“He just yelled ‘OK I’M GONNA KISS YOU NOW, DON’T FREAK OUT’ over the music.”

“Whatever. And then…”

From the neck down, Dennis is ice cold, the tips of his fingers shaking slightly. From the neck up he's on fire, watching their faces get closer together. They kiss, a very chaste touch, but then Charlie closes his eyes and turns his face a little, slotting their closed lips in a more comfortable angle, increasing the pressure. Mac’s hand has traveled to Charlie’s waist, where it's idly tracing a rip in the fabric.

Was Charlie feeling his touch on the skin peeping out? All moisture has left Dennis’s mouth, his throat makes a clicky sound when he swallows. There's a lock of Mac’s hair that slides from behind his ear and is now caressing Charlie’s cheek. 

They aren’t keeping their teeth clenched while kissing anymore, but giving each other these soft small kisses, making slightly wetter sounds, no tongues out. After two seconds, they kiss one last time, with a sweetness that makes his heart somersault, and finally move apart. 

They're both blushing, smiling awkwardly. 

“You’ve gotta work on your chapstick game, Charlie,” Mac says, rubbing his neck. He isn’t quite looking at Dennis. 

“Well, my goth girl didn’t complain, so…”

Dennis clears his throat, startling them both a bit. Charlie looks like he has just remembered Dennis was there, which is preposterous. 

“Not bad, gentlemen, not bad,” he forces himself to say. “I had lesser hopes, I have to admit.”

Both of them beam at him, chests puffing out. They high five and bellow a “Yeeeah!” that is jarring after their soft caresses a minute ago. 

“Well yeah, I can be a real passionate dude, guys,” Charlie says. 

“After that, the girls just came to the bar and asked us how long we had been dating or something,” Mac says. 

“And he nearly freaked out and he was totally gonna deck me and tell them he wasn’t queer, but I stepped on his foot, like, bro, don’t fuck it up--

“--and then I improvised, and I said we weren’t dating, but we were friends and _really_ open-minded,” he winks obnoxiously at Dennis. “They just threw themselves at us dude, it was amazing.” 

“Amazing,” Dennis repeats, his words hollow. “Are you gonna try it again?”

“Well, we shouldn’t have to, right? We already know Shauna and Bethany, so we can just hang with them at the club, and start from there... “ Mac says. The bell rang. 

“Sorry we didn’t include you in this one, man,” Charlie apologizes. He does look sorry.

“Yeah Den, you understand, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Dennis says. His eyes go to Mac’s hair, slipping from behind his ear, and move down the freckles on his shoulder, only to go back to his twinkly smile. 

“No, yeah, I get it.”

… 

“HOW DARE THEY, THE STUPID IDIOTS”

If Dennis hadn’t already broken most of the magazines in his room, smashed a third-place award from the second grade sports day, and ripped every page of one of Dee’s Nancy Drew books, he would have turned his hands and nails and teeth against himself, tearing his skin and hair apart. 

Dee knocks on the door and doesn’t even wait for him to grant her permission to enter, the swine. Stupid rude people and their peasant ways, goddamnit. 

“Will you calm down, you freak??” 

“SHUT UP!”

He can hear her groaning over the ringing of his ears and his labored breath. 

“Is this about the guys not kissing you?”

“Dee, seriously, get the fuck out of my room or I’ll chop your hair up during the night and you will look like the drummer from Green Day.”

“Whatever. You know, I get why he didn’t want to do it, and it’s not because of the braces,” she looks at him with her mouth contorted in what is supposed to be a shrewd smile. 

“Whatever, I don’t care. I don't give a shit if they wanna go around looking like the McPoyle brothers, letting goth girls clearly make fun of them. Hell, I'll buy them some tighty whiteys and bathrobes to complete the look. I. DON’T. CARE.”

“Fuck you, basket case. Don’t ever touch one of my Nancy Drews again or I’ll wax your eyebrows while you’re sleeping.”

...

  
  


_SIX MONTHS LATER_

Dennis has spent the past week smiling at his own reflection in the mirror. 

From every angle. Before brushing, after brushing. Before and after flossing. 

His lips started to get chapped which was unacceptable, so he’s been going to bed with a thick layer of honey all over his mouth. His velvety lips are worth waking up with sticky hair sometimes. 

He can’t believe it's finally over; the mouth sores every time the braces got tightened, the bits of food that never went the fuck away, the bad breath paranoia. 

But also. Well. 

Now he was gonna show the bastards. 

…

He gets to school and makes an effort to flirt and chat with every girl on his way to the lockers. Girls are so good when it comes to noticing new stuff. They always make a point of telling you how nice your new haircut, clothes, and glasses are. Not that he needs glasses, but he did get ones without a prescription once, to see if he could pull that look. 

He definitely can, of course. But the bespectacled look is dangerously nerdy, he doesn’t want to go around looking like he spends any time at the library, no sir. 

Anyways, the girls were lapping it up, of course. What was brighter than gold? Maybe he had to upgrade, acknowledge he had indeed become the Platinum God now. Diamond God? That had a nice Bowie ring...

Dennis reminds himself to play it cool. He’s got a status to maintain, after all, and with Adriano’s gang around, he can’t just run like an overexcited puppy to meet Ronnie the Rat and Dirtgrub. So he plays it casual, heads to his locker, and waits for Mac and Charlie to inevitably come to check on him, to ask about his week at the beach. Dee trails along, pretending she’s not desperately trying to find out if anybody has noticed her Jersey Shore braids. If she keeps turning her head around she’s gonna get one of the ratty looking things stuck in the screws of her back brace. 

“Hey Den!” he finally hears, and he can see Mac running like a puppy towards him, which is a much better look on him than on Dennis. He has some trucker tan on, his arms have exploded with even more freckles, millions of them over his nose and forehead too. He’s gotten a haircut, but his soft hair still flops over his ears and forehead. 

He’s wearing a sleeveless black top and ripped jeans, and is walking around as if he actually knows the kind of body he has, a mirror of Dennis’ physique, all long limbs and coltish muscles. 

The old nasty thought enters Dennis’s mind again: good thing Mac is so white trash (and a snitch, to boot), otherwise, he could give Dennis a run for his money with the girls. If he ever put his mind to it, he could be the John Taylor to Dennis’ Simon Le Bon. 

Never mind, Mac is there and Dennis can finally answer with a metal-free dazzling smile to Mac’s cheeky grin. Dennis has never felt more powerful than at the moment Mac stops in his tracks, his grin shifting into a gobsmacked expression. His eyes are stuck on Dennis’ smile, and Dennis could smile for _days_. 

Charlie, trailing behind Mac, bumps against his back, not noticing Mac has stopped walking. 

“Oof…” he mutters, rubbing his nose. “Man, don’t just stop like that, what the hell… Hey Dennis.”

“Hi Charlie,” Dennis says, and then Charlie notices too, pointing at his pearly whites. 

“Nice, dude! Can you like, crack stones with your teeth now, after having your mouth full of metal for years?”

Dennis laughs, he would normally eye-roll at Charlie, but he’s so happy. “Why would I chomp on stones, buddy? Nah, they only made my teeth straight, not freakishly strong or anything.”

“Aw, that’s a shame, man.” 

Mac still hasn’t said anything, he's just standing there, staring. Dennis could start dancing and clapping. Who’s saying no to a kiss from me now, baby boy? he thinks, and he might say those exact words to Mac later if he catches him alone. 

…

He spends two weeks planning exactly that, an evening alone with Mac. Not that he wants to exclude Charlie from this, but there’s something about Charlie that lives so much in its own universe Dennis cannot even hope to meddle with him. Charlie can be influenced in some ways, but he’s a much stronger mind than Mac. It seems unlikely, considering the number of chemicals he huffs, but the fact remains, Dennis cannot fuck with Charlie.

Mac, on the other hand... 

Mac plays it like they have this rivalry between them, but they are more like blood brothers. They get each other out of jams, they understand each other’s little petty fixations and insecurities. They both prey on them, on occasion, but it’s a language they both speak. 

Mac worships Dennis. He has seen the looks. Mac copycats Dennis on every cool mannerism he has, he repeats quotes and jokes. He does try to steal those too, claiming he was the first one coming up with them. He sees Dennis as a leader, a trend-setter. 

And Dennis is going to take advantage of that, because that’s what he does, and because he needs this. He still hasn’t forgotten how they made him feel, despite being prettier and more charming than both of them. Dennis had the better plan too, him kissing Mac would have been the most perfect realization of that scheme. Not Mac kissing Charlie, that was the Walmart value version. Ridiculous. 

It’s not like he’s trying to get in Mac’s pants. That’s stupid, Dennis loves chicks so much, it’s in his blood, his DNA. That’s just who he is, a stud, always jumping from girl to girl because he's a hot-blooded man. And precisely because of that, he doesn’t have hang-ups about getting it on with whoever, boys, girls, it’s not a big deal if he kisses Mac and there’s a possibility he’ll enjoy himself beyond the scheme. His blood is young and pumping, isn’t it? 

In any case, what Dennis is looking forward to is the conquest. Getting the lead role, showing Mac this is how they should have done it in the first place, braces be damned. 

So, he works for two weeks on getting a night out with Mac, without Charlie or Dee tagging along. He keeps his schedule open for fourteen days, and one day Charlie tells them he can’t come out to play because his mom is worried about the living room paint having too much lead. 

Something she wouldn't have even considered, if not for a well-placed online article, printed out and pushed through Charlie's mail slot. 

It’s a Friday. Dennis is going to prove to Mac how they can really get girls with the right person in charge, and it won’t even have to be a goth club. A mainstream nightclub will do. 

First, he needs to keep Mac happy. So he takes him to Rico’s, they get cheese fries and beers with their fake IDs. Not too many, just enough to get them both nice and loose. Then they go to the arcade for a bit, to kill time before hitting the club, sneakily passing a bottle of creme de menthe between them. Dennis even lets Mac win a couple of times. He is calculating to the second when is the most perfect moment to take each step. Good timing is essential for everything in life. 

“Hey, I’m done with Street Fighter,” Dennis says, one hour and seven minutes later. “Do you wanna go for a drink to the Whirlpool?”

The Whirlpool doesn’t card, and it’s too cool to pass, Dennis knows this. Mac is pumped to go. He’s tipsy enough he’s acting all touchy, throwing an arm around Dennis’s shoulders, speaking super close to his ear, nearly mouthing his neck. He’s warm and soft, and smells intoxicating, for a boy. Dennis doesn’t think he’s using cologne, just Axe body spray and the same soap Luther used, a rosemary-scented brick.

“Dude, can I just say something?” Mac asks while they’re lining up to enter. “That’s a great smile you got there, you’re gonna get even more tail now.”

“I don’t think that's possible,” Dennis brags. Mac snorts. “But thank you, bro, I appreciate it.”

“I’m-- I’m secure in my masculinity to tell you, man.”

He’s not, and Dennis knows this, but he’s not going to comment on it. Mac does allow himself to be less defensive around Dennis, comments on guys' appearances without adding a ‘no-homo’ after. Mac is so obsessed about not looking gay, and by doing this Dennis could help him see it’s not a big deal, it could be awesome. 

It’ll be, you know, nice. It’ll be ok. 

Fear creeps upon him, the possibility of failure is still there. Mac could get all homophobic and stuff, he has a shitty temper. Or he could try to take the reins, the bossy bitch.

Well, Dennis has gotten to this point already, he can’t just give up. They are in now, just chilling with a couple of rum and cokes in a corner where they have good visibility of the dancefloor. There is a higher ratio of girls than guys, cute and slightly older girls. The Whirlpool is way out of the way from where anybody they know hangs around. It’s a good place to try this.

So he goes for the kill. 

“Who knows how many chicks you’d have gotten if you had kissed me, man,” Dennis says, right into Mac’s ear. The music is loud, after all. 

Mac nods vigorously. 

“Oh, man, so much pussy," he laughs. Dennis doesn’t think he has heard him properly, which is frustrating. 

Another attempt, “So, shall we try it?”

“Hm?” Mac tears his eyes away from the dancefloor, he's trying to read Dennis' lips since he can't hear him.

“You know,” Dennis gets an inch closer. Something downs on Mac about their position, and Dennis nearly backs off, because Mac has a history of poor reactions when he gets put on the spot. “Wanna try and kiss me?”

He should have added ‘to get chicks’, or ‘to make girls horny’. But he’s left it like this, like an idiot, like he’s actually asking Mac to...

Mac hasn’t moved. He’s still inches away from Dennis. He's not smiling anymore and has this sort of pained look in his eyes. Dennis licks his lips, Mac is looking at them with his own tongue peeking out a tiny bit. Dennis feels it, cold on his burning lips a second later, when he leans in, and Mac jolts but doesn’t go anywhere. 

Dennis gives him a peck, presses in, angles his head like Charlie did to get the position right. Mac breathes a sigh through his nose and closes his eyes. They slowly move onto open-mouthed kisses that are not dirty but have a hint of tongue behind them. They can taste their drinks in each other’s mouths, sickly sweet. 

Dennis risks a little more tongue, relishing in the feel of Mac trembling against him, his head is swimming with endorphins and the knowledge that he did this, he makes Mac sigh and tremble like a schoolgirl, his kisses are doing this. 

Mac bites Dennis’s lower lip, chasing those thoughts away. His hands have gone to Dennis’s waist as he did with Charlie, and they are so tender there, contouring the peaks of his floating ribs with careful thumbs. They are full-on tonguing now and it’s so hot. Dennis reaches out, seeking to feel Mac’s warm chest, his hand trailing down his stomach, and Mac moans while Dennis is sucking in the tip of his tongue. 

Dennis rewards him by licking further into his mouth, just the right side of filthy, encouraging more sounds he can’t so much hear as _feel_ through Mac’s chest, vibrations of a purring cat. 

How would this go, Dennis thinks, if they were truly alone? If they were in Dennis’ room like they’ve been a million times, laying in bed after playing Sega. How would this develop, would Mac want him to take his shirt off? Dennis would probably take it off and then Mac would realize he wanted him to do it, that’s the way their thing goes, Dennis is the answer to the questions Mac hasn’t even begun to ask himself. And Mac is the spur Dennis needs, the constant encouragement that makes him want to be the best at everything because the rivalry is great but when Mac looks at him like he’s fucking _Jesus_ , that’s everything to Dennis.

They’re not alone now, but that hasn’t stopped Mac from getting a hold of Dennis’s hip, and his thumb is tracing the line of the hipbone over and over. Dennis’s pants are feeling tight now, his tongue is rubbing Mac’s and they keep kissing, kissing, making awkwardly wet sounds that go straight to his groin. 

He feels something touching his cheek and for a sec he thinks Mac’s caressing his face. His heart pounds painfully when he realizes is that runaway lock of hair. 

Somebody drops a glass and they break apart, startled at the crash. They look at each other, deer-in-the-headlights, then glance around to see if anybody is watching them. 

Everybody seems to be on the dancefloor, and nobody is paying attention to them. 

The relief is heady, because this is still a club in South Philly, and it wouldn’t be rare if some jerkass had been watching, and decided he had to beat the fag out of them. 

At the same time, there seems to be very little point in carrying on with the plan now. In fact, Dennis is left with the very embarrassing realization that if two horny chicks had approached them, he would have screamed at them for interrupting. 

“This is boring, let’s go,” he says, and heads for the door without waiting for Mac. Mac follows, of course. He doesn't say anything until they reach the crossroads where they always part ways, and even then, all he says is “Night Den,” and carries on walking, eyes glued to the road. 

It takes Dennis ages to fall asleep that night, he keeps touching his lips. He still remembers how Mac’s spit tasted. 

The next morning Dee tells him Maureen Ponderosa likes him, and half gagging she insists he has to go on a date with her because then maybe she’ll have a chance with her brother, Bill. 

“Dennis Reynolds and Maureen Ponderosa,” Dennis says out loud, theatrically. “I like the sound of that.”

FIN


End file.
